


Lose My Breath

by BellarkeBelle



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, F/M, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, High School, Loss of Virginity, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Vaginal Sex, Virginity, honestly, it's disgusting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 04:38:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5854558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BellarkeBelle/pseuds/BellarkeBelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy and Clarke were waiting for prom, but some things just happen.</p>
<p>or</p>
<p>Bellamy and Clarke are each other's firsts in this tooth-rotting fluff fic.</p>
<p>EDIT: There were some problems with the formatting but they're fixed now. Sorry for the inconvenience!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lose My Breath

**Author's Note:**

> This is definitely not my best work but it's been sitting in my drafts for so long I finally just had to post it. I wrote this in an attempt to write a different kind of smut. I still need some practice, but, hey - let me know what you think!

She was surprised to find her hair sticking to her, her skin flushed and damp with sweat. Bellamy was grinning at her; that big, dumb smile that made her stomach do weird things. 

"What," She asked, sticking out her ass and pouting her lips, "The hot mess look doing it for you?" 

" _You_ do it for me, Princess." He waggled his eyebrows at her, similarly disheveled after their 2-in-the-afternoon dancing sesh, yet somehow pulling it off way better than she was.

"Smooth, Blake." She laughed, smacking a dramatic kiss on his lips before flopping onto the bed, bouncing lightly.

He grinned at her, clear and bright, and she rolled her eyes as she focused on getting comfortable, twisting until she felt the ‘pop’ of her vertebrae unlocking. Her boyfriend continued to stand over her as the beat of silence stretched into a minute, and then two. She didn’t notice it though, had spent so many silent afternoons with him that she’d forgotten that some people found the silence unnerving. 

"Hey, I know you were planning on working up to it a little more, but can we- do you want to- I really want to get you off, Clarke." He stuttered abruptly.

She sat up at that, raising an eyebrow. 

"It's just, sometimes, when I hear you laugh, I want, I can’t-." He mumbled it to his feet, soft and low.

Clarke kept her gaze level and her face straight as she stared at him.

He cracked first, laughing and flopping on his back next to her. "That was really bad, huh?"

"So bad, Blake." She laughed next to him, "but I think you pulled it off anyway."

Bellamy kept laughing a little as he rolled into her and curled around her sitting form before he froze, sitting up slightly.

"What?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm easy, but only because I love you." She sing-songed the last part, as if it were somehow an insult. 

"Princess, I--"

"Come on, Blake, sex me up!" She threw her arms up in the air like one of her pre-k art students waiting for her to take their smocks off for them.

"Oh I will. I'm gonna sex you up so hard-" He rumbled, deep in his chest, as he fought and failed to keep a straight face.

"Maybe we should have a no talking rule?" Clarke interjected, still teasing, a little stunned when his face turns serious and appraising, eyes drawing her in in the sudden silence left by her heart stopping.

"Shut up, Princess." Bellamy growled, finally, and it’s a sound she usually associated with him losing it at Octavia so the shiver up her spine really should have had her reevaluating some of her interests, but she never got the chance to do more that bite at her own lips because then he was _kissing_ her. 

Bellamy was like a force of nature when he - well, when he did anything, to be perfectly honest, and kissing wasn't an exception. He was impossibly thorough, and endlessly passionate, all heat and fire and determination. She pulled back for a second, "You are going to eat me out, right?"

Usually Bellamy would have rolled his eyes and made some quip about her counting down the days, but when she locked eyes with him she felt the smolder right down to her core when he responded.

"Oh god, fuck yes." He breathed, gaze glazing over before her moved in to kiss her again, laying her down as he climbed over her, dropping his hips to grind against hers in a torturously slow roll. His fingers slid up under her shirt to stroke up and down her side in a move that should have had her giggling too hard to breathe, but his teeth were nipping at her mouth and any tickle sharpened at his bites, and she moaned instead. 

“I want to spend the rest of my life making you make those sounds.” He murmured against her jaw.

“No, you want to be a know-it-all about history for money.” She managed, shakily, and he huffed out a breath, hot air teasing at her throat. It’s so dangerously intimate, and she rolled her hips up into his in both appreciation and reminder. He grinned at her impatience and grinded down hard in return. She gasped and the hand around her hip tightened.

He was pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses into the side of her neck and she was doing her best to give him the best possible access. “Fuck, Princess.” He growled into her skin as her leg wound its way around his waist.

“It might be a good idea to come in your pants, so you can do that later.” She managed, strangled.

He pulled away, confused, and she regretted ever opening her mouth when his tongue stopped doing _the thing_. “Do what?” He asked, and his forehead crinkled, making a lost-puppy expression so cute that she couldn’t help but smooth the lines away with her fingers.

Then she smirked, leaning up to his ear, “Fuck the princess.” She whispered. 

He dropped his head to her shoulder with a groan. “Princess?”

“Yeah?”

“I think we need to go back to that no talking rule.” 

It startled a laugh out of her, and pretty soon they’re laying side by side, giggling helplessly.

“Bell?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m nervous.” She whispered into the pad of his thumb, pressing her cheek into his palm.

“Me too.” He admitted. “Excited, though.” She grinned.

He rocked against her thigh lightly, letting her feel how just how excited he was, “Me too.” And the giggling started all over again, fading into soft breaths, and lots of staring into each other's eyes while they pretend to be in a movie.

They laid like that a while longer, listening to each other breathe, giving each other space to be sure.

“I just want it to be good for you.” He told her, so sincere she thought it would break her.

“Me too.” She smirked, and he rolled his eyes, huffing out an exasperated breath. “I want to make it good for you, too, Bell.” She amended.

“I can’t imagine it being anything else, not with you.” He murmured. It would have been ridiculous if he wasn’t so damn sincere. 

“Right back at you.” She smiled, adding belatedly, “I haven’t shaved for a very, very long time.”

“Looks like we’re in the same boat on that one too, Princess.”

Clarke laughed a little. “For the sake of continuing this lovely open communication I really need to tell you to move your leg just a little bit upwards.”

He smirked, but complied, and she rocked gratefully against his jeans, twisting with him when he flipped back on top of her, pulling at her shirt and trailing kisses across her ribs; just chaste, closed-mouth pecks, but her breath catches in anticipation. 

He looked up, catching her eye, “What do you want, Clarke?”

She paused, then, “What do you want, Bellamy?”

There was a few long beats of silence, and she saw the scared little boy warring with this confident, _hungry_ , young man, and because he was so much the both of them, she knew neither of them had any idea of who would win. It didn’t matter though, because every part of her was starving for every part of him.

She told him this as best she could, in kisses and gentle fingers, and when he pulled back, it was with an answer on his tongue.

“I want to taste every inch of your skin, want to hear all the sounds you make beneath my tongue, want to come eating you out, want you to come around my fingers, want you to taste yourself on me, want to do some of that cool-sounding penetration stuff for the sake of my dick.”

She let her head drop back onto the pillows beneath her, huffing out a laugh and trying to process beyond the flares of heat dancing up from her core with every new wish. “That’s, uh, honest?”

“I’ll ask again, what do you want, Clarke?”

“That.” She gasped, fingers tangling in his hair when he nips at her hipbone, “I want that. All of that. So much of that.

“Okay, great,” He said, and then hesitated, “you’re going to have to tell me what’s good, and, uh, what’s not, and what you think might be good, because, uh, yeah, obvious reasons.” He sounded nervous again, and it was endearing, it really was, but nervous Bellamy did a lot more biting at his own lips instead of hers, so she sat up enough to yank off her shirt, and tugging at his. He took the hint and pulled it off, and the press of hot skin on skin sent warm shock through her body, and for a second all she could do was look at him and smile. 

“God, Princess. Fuck. You’re so- _Fuck._ ” He was staring at her, and she was acutely aware of the heat in her cheeks, the flush that had risen from her chest, the way she had pressed herself into the comforter so that all of her was bared to him. His eyes were black in a way made her _want_. “ _Boobs_.” Bellamy muttered, almost to himself, and she snorted, grinning at the massive dork she was going to prom with in a month. “Sorry, they’re just so, uh, boob-like?” He cocked his head at her, almost like he was hoping she could tell him where he had misplaced his brain. 

She would have said something, but the _wanting_ was getting insistent so she tugged on his hair instead, sighing when his tongue, hot and wet, dragged across the top of her breast. Her head dropped back onto the bed, and he nuzzled into her bared neck, one hand coming up to squeeze gently against her bra, the underwire digging into her skin but the heat of his palm making her arch into his touch. He kept nosing against her throat, his teeth skimming against her pulse - which was too fast to count - sucking, licking, _breathing,_ along her jaw, behind her ear, his hands warm and firm. Her fingers tangled into his hair, pressing her body up into his, grinding her hips into his thigh, breath catching as he rutted into hers.

“Off, off.” She muttered, trying to get her hands on her bra without losing any contact with Bellamy. He huffed into her skin, sitting up. She whined. 

“We both know there’s no way I’m getting that thing off.” He drawled, voice rough and lower than she’d ever heard it before.

“It’s a front clasp.” She managed, thinking too hard for the warm haze that surrounded her.

Bellamy was looking at her intently, brow furrowing as he considered the complicated mechanism of a front clasp, beautiful fingers slipping under the wire, tugging limply as he waited for her to do it for him. She sighed and rolled her eyes, undoing it with a snap and a flourish. To her exasperation he simply redid the clasp before sliding it out himself, a satisfied smile flickering lightly across his face. 

“Okay, you know how it works now, can we…” Clarke gestured to herself pointedly, raising an eyebrow.

“Figure out how you work? I’d be honored.” He grinned, crooked and slow and sharp, and warmth floods between her thighs.

“Jesus _fucking_ Christ, Bell.”

And then his mouth was back on her, sucking hard on her nipples, tongue teasing, and she’s arching, gasping. If she’d been paying attention she wouldn’t have been surprised at the calculating expression on his face as he lowered himself onto her, abdomen pressing hard against her hips, pinning her to the mattress as he explored her breasts. Thoroughly.

Boobs had never been Clarke’s thing, being one for ruthless-execution-style everything, including orgasms. She was willing to reconsider her opinion if it meant Bellamy would do this more often, though. After endless gasps and sighs and wet, lapping noises, he moved down, hot, open-mouthed kisses trailing down her sides, between her ribs, across her hipbones.

“Not yet.” She panted, stopping his fingers on the button of her jeans. He paused, looking up at her with no expectations, no hard edges, all heat and contentment. It hit her harder than it maybe should have. “Wanna get you off first.” She managed, and the same slow grin bloomed across his face. There was a boyish excitement in his eyes, like when you woke your parents up at six on Christmas morning by jumping on their bed. 

He rolled over easily, and now it’s her mouth on his body. Slow drags as she tasted him, tongue tracing the cut of hips, wide and flat across his abs, savoring every twitch and jump of his muscles, She lapped across his nipple, bit lightly and laughed when his hips bucked up, almost knocking her off. 

She shifted, sliding so her thigh is between his legs, ran her nails up his sides, firm enough to bite away the tickle and light enough to keep on the right side of the line between pleasure and pain. He bucked, and she pressed against him, let him rut, swallowed his grunts and moans, found they tasted like her own. It didn’t take long - not that either of them thought it would - before he stiffened and jerked, head dropping back under the weight of his own orgasm as he came apart beneath her. Her breath hitched and she palmed the bulge of his jeans with a careful hand, watched his muscles jump as he gasped, the wet patch growing beneath her touch. 

He rolled them back open before his eyes open, pinning her with his weight, warm and heavy, on top of her. He tucked his face into her neck, tangling their legs and arms and fingers together. She thought he’d fallen asleep when he murmurs, low and slurring, into her skin.

“Can I eat you out now?”

She laughed softly into his hair, “Please.” She answered.

He shifted, as if to pull away, but slumped over again before he made it very far.“Five more minutes.” He mumbled, and she giggled, slipping a hand out of his grasp and running it down his back, stroking over his shoulder blade, cupping the nape of his neck, dancing her fingers over his sides, sneaking a feel of his hipbones, petting him until he groaned, relenting. 

He pushed himself up, dragging down her body, biting lightly as if marking the trail he took, mapping his path across her skin. He popped open the button of her jeans, helped her shimmy out of the denim. Teased his fingers against her hips, he stroked in light touches that had her skin roughing into goosebumps, a shudder running down her spine. His breath was warm and his tongue was hot. Her stomach fluttered and jumped at the scrape of his teeth. He didn’t bother to tease her. 

He pressed a long, flat stroke over her panties, and she mewled involuntarily, gripping at his hair. He hummed lowly in response. Hooking his fingers into the lace at her hips, he pulled her underwear off, not commenting on the Spongebob design or frayed edges beyond a smirk and a huff that made her thighs clench. He didn’t stare, just nudged apart her legs and did everything but attack her with his mouth. Another long, flat stroke. A flick over her clit. Up and down and up and down her slit. His tongue fucked in and out of her before being replaced by his fingers and she wasn’t even sure if the noises she was hearing were hers. Her fingers were tangled in his hair again, and she was writhing, bucking up to meet his thrusts, riding his tongue as if her life depended on it. His arms were wrapped around her legs, fingers curling over the front of her thighs, pulling her up to meet his face, and he tightened his grip, sliding one arm over her hips to pin her down. A litany of curses and encouragement spilled from her lips as she begged him to _never, ever stop._ He slid his jaw back and forth, moving up to suck, _suck,_ hard on her clit, tongue flicking beautiful designs of rapture against her as his fingers crooked to press hard and _oh-so-perfectly_ inside of her. The strangeness of something moving inside of her body occurred to her for the briefest moment before it was washed away in the overwhelming sensation of _holy fucking shit_. His teeth got in the game and she was getting ready to say something when she realized that, actually, this might be very okay with her. If the high keening sound she made was any indication, at least. He chuckled, warm and wet and light enough to pull her back just a little bit to humanity.

She glanced downward, gasped and watched with wide eyes as he rubbed against the mattress, buried between her thighs. She realized he was finger-fucking her in time with the movement of his hips and something in her snapped. Her fingers tugged lightly in his hair, pulling him up, pressing him tight against her. The rhythm sped up, but now with his perfect, beautiful tongue right where she wanted it most. She pulled him into her harder, and he crooked his fingers, not even bothering to move them any more, just pressing, pressing, pressing, _right there._

“Please, _please,_ Bell. Oh god, oh god please. Just, just right there. Oh!” Her entire body spasmed, almost completely breaking contact with the bed as she clenched around him, whiteness overtaking her vision. 

Bellamy resumed his long, flat strokes, flicking over her clit occasionally as she came, licking over and into her entrance as she came down. He didn’t stop until she pushed him away, and then only to push her taste against her own tongue. She responded weakly before melting into a Clarke-puddle, nothing but liquid bliss. 

When she spoke again it was more of a sigh than anything else, “I don’t think I’ve ever come so hard in my life.” She managed, not bothering to open her eyes - she’d seen Bellamy preen enough in her lifetime. He groped her boob in response and she scowled as hard as possible without using any muscles. 

“Can I fuck you know?” He asked, and it would have probably worked better if he had sounded a little less like a kid asking their mother for candy.

She told him as much, and there was rustling as he shifted, sliding over her, bringing his lips against her ear. “Princess,” He breathed, and she shuddered, “I would very much like to fuck you now, if that’s alright with you?” He was doing the growly thing again, all low and hungry, and she bit her lip hard against the needy sound that threatened against her teeth. She nodded and he chuckled, leaning back. Her eyes opened as he moved away and she caught him watching her, face open and adoring. It made her want to cry. 

He didn’t say anything, but the way his lips pressed against hers was more sincere than the most vehement profession of devotion. She kissed him back as slowly and as passionately as she could. She didn’t feel 17. She didn’t think he did either. 

She watched as he slid the condom on, shifted to help him slide in. He pressed his thumb over her clit, rubbing lightly, and she gasped, pressing up into him. 

It didn’t hurt at all.

It was weird though, the stretch, the thickness.

She loved it. 

He did too, moving into her with tiny, aborted thrusts he couldn’t quite keep back. “Fuck, Clarke.” 

“Yeah,” She nodded, breathless. “Fuck Clarke. Please fuck Clarke.”

Normally he would have called her out on using the same joke twice, but now he only groaned, dropping his forehead onto her shoulder as he slid the rest of the way in. They froze, letting her adjust through sheer force of will, until she lifted her leg, throwing it over his back. 

The rhythm wasn’t as hard to find as she had been afraid it would, the two falling in sync almost automatically. She lifted to meet his thrusts easily, shifting to make sure he hit _that spot_ every time. 

Her head was tilted all the way back and she was staring blankly at the ceiling, alternating her focus between Bellamy’s teeth in her shoulder and the beautiful friction between her legs. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled them both up into a sitting position, fucking up into her as she sank down onto him. She moaned. Loudly. 

“Fuck, Bellamy.”

“You feel so good, Princess.” He panted, eyes not quite focused, “Taste good too. Want you to ride my face, love your thighs tight over my ears. Want to think I can’t breathe if I’m not breathing you. Can’t see, can’t hear, just taste, taste you. Rubbing so good on my tongue, let me lick you, let me suck you. God, Princess, you clenching around me like that, I can’t think, don’t want to think. Your nails running down my back, fuck, you’re a fucking dream.” 

Clarke couldn’t say she was surprised, if she was being honest. Bellamy was never very good at shutting up, and watching him like this, she can’t imagine even the slightest reservation making it through the haze of _want,_ and _need,_ and _now,_ that had consumed them. What she hadn’t expected, didn’t even think to anticipate, was just how hard it would hit her. She kept clenching involuntarily, waves of pleasure making her gasp and shake and fuck down harder, 

“You keep making these noises, so fucking perfect. Love you so fucking much, So glad it’s you right now Princess, you loving me, love that I get to love you. _Fuck._ ” 

He tipped them back over, hips snapping into her with abandon, so hard and fast she could only wrap her legs around him and hold on. His hands grabbed at her thighs, pulling her up into him. She might have screamed. It was so good. He let go with one arm and slipped his hand between them, pressing onto her clit. 

She saw stars.

Fucking _stars._

_Stars._

He came with her spasming around him, teeth in her shoulder, her hands in his hair, both of them seeing stars. 

It was a long time before either of them moved, their breathing deep and slow, Bellamy’s weight heavy and safe on top of her, their limbs tangled together. Eventually they did, little pets and nuzzles as they reassured each other they were all good and totally alive. At some point Clarke pushed Bellamy off her - to his great protest - and got a rag to clean them up with. She wasn’t away long, because soon they were wrapped back up in each other, grateful that Octavia was having a sleepover that night, and no one was going to walk in on them for a solid sixteen hours. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! :)  
> How do you feel about my attempt at a healthy sexual relationship? Worth your time? Let me know!
> 
> Don't forget Queen of the Sky updates next Friday!!!!
> 
> Hmu at PersephoneClarke


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